


Broken Boy, New Boy

by TheCockyUndead



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Multiple Worlds, but juliana did what she had to, graphic description of violence, joe blake deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 06:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16279742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCockyUndead/pseuds/TheCockyUndead
Summary: Juliana cuts Joe's throat, and as Joe lays there on the bathroom floor, bleeding out, he realizes that every choice he had made had led up to this moment. He doesn't blame Juliana; she did what she had to, and it was what he deserved. He welcomed death with open arms, and dies.But then, he wakes up.





	Broken Boy, New Boy

**[Broken Boy, New Boy]**

 

 

The razor slit his throat in one clean slice, biting into his skin so smoothly that for a moment Joe wasn't even sure it touched him. Juliana’s face was a picture of determination, her fear clouding in the back of her eyes as she held the razor, _his_ razor, tightly in her hand. Her knuckles were white from where she gripped it, still holding it aloft in her hand as she stared at him, watching as he blinked at her, hand going up to his neck where blood was beginning to spurt from the wound.

The world tilted as his legs gave out and he fell in a tangled heap to the bathroom floor. His back hit the edge of the doorway with bruising force, but it didn’t hurt. It was just a numb sort of tingling that was in the back of his mind. With his other hand pressing into the tile floor, Joe expected the tiles to be cold, but he couldn’t feel it. His hand, splayed flat on the ground, couldn't feel the hardness or coldness of the bathroom floor. 

He couldn’t feel anything.

Well, no, that wasn’t true. The pain in his neck was burning hot now; it felt like the razor was still pressing against his skin, cutting deeper to the bone. 

The blood that was soaking into his once white shirt should have been warm, but Joe could only feel the slick wetness of it against his fingers as his hand started to slip away from his neck and fall to his side. He tried to move his fingers, but they only twitched in response. A soft sort of panic started gnawing at his chest when he realized that he couldn’t move any of his limbs. He had lost control, not just of his body, but of the whole situation. Maybe he had never been in control. Maybe from the moment that he had accepted the mission to Canon City from Smith, he had lost any semblance of control he might have had over his life. 

He stared at Juliana, who was crouched down near the bathtub, a safe distance from him. Her chest was heaving, but even as he watched, he could see her regaining her breath and taking control of the situation again. But it wasn’t like he could do anything to her, even if he wanted to.

He was dying.  

Her eyes were dark, and Joe thought maybe there were tears filming over them, but that couldn’t be right. She shouldn’t feel anything but hate towards him. After all, he had shoved a gun at her face, threatening her life unless she came with him. He had spewed words that he wasn’t sure he even believed at her, demanding that she accept them so they could survive.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but the fear of what would happen to him if he didn’t obey his orders was too much. He wasn’t afraid of death, but he was afraid of what could be done to him before they allowed him to die. 

He hadn’t wanted any of this.   

All he had wanted was her.

From the moment he had set eyes on Juliana in Canon City, he knew that she was something special. Not just beautiful, but smart too; a wit that could put him in his place with a quick word and quirk of her lips. She was the only thing he cared about; he might have denied it, but everything he had done after Canon City was to get back to her.

When Smith told him that she had died, he had felt like his world had crumbled just a little bit, and he felt like he was drifting with no purpose anymore. So he had fled New York, going to Berlin, where he had promptly destroyed what was left of his life. All because Juliana had died (But not really. Smith had lied to him, the bastard). 

Even when he had been in the basement in Berlin, Joe had thought that maybe someday he would see her again. That they could be together. 

But the poison they had fed him was strong. Too strong. Not even his love for her had saved him, and it was foolish of him to think that they could be together after everything that had happened. 

So maybe this was better. Dying at her hand. What better way to leave this world could Joe ask for?

He focused back on her, and she stared back unflinchingly. Her lips were set and Joe knew he wasn’t going to hear her speak again. Her face showed no emotion, and Joe thought it was better that way. He didn't think he could handle anything but the blank mask she wore on her skin. 

She didn’t regret it, killing him. Why would she? He had tried to fill her with poison too. 

His mouth opened, and he tried to speak, but couldn’t. Idiot. His throat was cut; he wouldn’t speak ever again.

Joe’s chin dipped down to his chest, and he could feel his heartbeat slowing. It had only been seconds since his skin had split open, but Joe felt like a lifetime had passed. He wished that he could have realized that the poison inside him was killing him more surely than anything Juliana had done. It would have gotten him in the end, no matter what he had done.

Joe had never really believed in the Reich. His loyalty had always been to people, but the pain in the basement had chased those ideals away. The concept down there had been simple: do and think as we say and all this will end. Forget what we’ve taught and the pain will come back with the snap of our fingers. 

The blood was a pool around him now, Joe was sure. The end was swiftly galloping towards him, and Joe waited for it, ready for the pain of this world to finally end. 

His only regret was that he would never see Juliana again. He would never be able to apologize and tell her that she was right, and he was so very wrong. He would never be able to hold her tight and whisper that he loved her.  

Instead, she would always remember this version of him. This hateful and twisted version of the man he used to be.

He wished he could have been better. She had always made him want to be better. But it hadn’t been enough, and now he was leaving before he had the chance to try and be the man she wanted.

His mouth opened again, and Juliana watched with a cold, detached interest as Joe struggled for the breath to say just one last thing to her.

No air came, and Joe’s eyes dimmed, even as his mind echoed his last word.

_Juliana._

.

.

It was dark. A never ending darkness that swallowed him whole. Joe figured he probably should have been scared, but he wasn’t. This was what he deserved. Death had had his name for a long time now; he had cheated it time and time again, but no more. It had finally caught up to him, and now, now there was nothing.

“Joe?”

If Joe could see, or feel his body, he would have jerked in response to the voice. He shouldn’t be hearing anything. Not his name, not even a whisper.

“Joe?”

He knew that voice. It had been the last he had heard before he had died. But that wasn’t right. He was dead, and dead people couldn’t hear anything.

“Wake up. C'mon, Joe, wake up.”

Noise rushed towards him, and so did a flare of bright light. Both unexpected, but not as much as the abrupt pain that slammed into him. It gripped him tight and threw him to the ground, and suddenly, everything hurt. His legs, his arms, but mostly chest. 

Joe gasped sharply, and shot up, clutching his chest first and then his neck. The skin there was smooth under his fingers. Not split open into an ugly, bloody grin.

He blinked rapidly at his outstretched legs. He couldn’t see where he was, but he could feel the hard surface he was sitting on, and his other hand, the one that wasn’t clutching at his neck, was pressed down by his side, digging into a soft, gritty dirt. 

“Joe?” Hands were gripping his shoulders, tight and painful. “Joe, talk to me.”

The voice was laced with concern. Hell, it wasn’t just any voice. It was  _Juliana_.

Joe’s eyes snapped up from the blurry outline of his sprawled legs to the woman crouching near him.

Her hair was dark and hanging around her dusty face in thick curtains. Her eyes were wide with worry, but when she saw his blinking eyes a smile slipped onto her lips.

"Hey, Joe," she said softly. "You're back."  

The image of the same woman, crouched in almost the same position, only moments before, flashed in front of Joe’s eyes and he jerked under her hands; an instinctive reaction to being killed, he supposed.

“Joe?” Her hands went from his shoulders to cup both sides of his face. Her fingers were a cool relief against his hot skin. “Are you hurt? We looked for open wounds, but we couldn’t find any. The doc thought you broke some ribs and that maybe all the damage had been internal, and when you didn’t wake up, I thought...” she trailed off, voice choking. She looked away briefly before regaining control of her face and looking back at Joe. 

Bewilderment clouded Joe’s emotions, overtaking the trembling fear that encircled his heart. She sounded like she loved him, or at least cared deeply for him, but that wasn’t right. She had just killed him. Maybe not in hate, but definitely out of fear. 

She was staring at him, waiting for him to say something. Joe shook himself and tentatively cleared his throat.  

“I’m alright,” Joe said, voice hoarse. He half expected to not be able to say anything at all. The hand still grasping his neck, tightened. “What happened?”

“The grenade,” Juliana said with a small shrug, “it got a little closer that we thought it would.” Her lips quirked into a smile, but Joe could see the tremble in them.

“I’m okay,” Joe said, dropping his hand from his neck as he leaned forward. He pressed his forehead to hers, trying to reassure her that he was alive (but how was he alive?). The pressure of her skin against his felt right, but Joe wasn’t sure why he was getting so close to the woman who had killed him. What right did he have to even think that he could offer her some sort of comfort when the last time he had seen her, he had shoved a gun into her face. He frowned slightly, trying to push past those thoughts. “Where are we?”

“Back at camp,” Juliana said, breaking the contact between them and sitting back on her heels. She jerked her chin in the general direction of their surroundings as if that explained it all. 

Joe’s eyes flicked from Juliana to where they were sitting. They were in a clearing of trees where a makeshift camp had been set up. The clearing was filled with people and tents and fires. It looked temporary, like it could be torn down and rebuilt in a new area in moments. Joe felt a stab of recognition, although he didn't know why. He had never been camping in his life. A city boy, thorough and thorough. He squinted at the people walking around with guns in their hands and bandannas around their necks as if they would somehow explain to him what was happening.

A memory of setting up this camp oozed into his mind. He had helped Ms. Moony with hers, though she had insisted she could do it herself. Joe shook his head, ignoring the pain that came from the movement.  

“Dragged my sorry ass all the way back, huh?” Joe said with a huff of laughter, looking back to Juliana. “I’m surprised you didn’t just leave me. Would have made better time.” The words were a bit of a surprise, but they felt right on his tongue. 

“Never,” Juliana said, eyes narrowing as if she couldn’t believe Joe even suggested it. "We don't leave people behind. No one was going to even going to suggest leaving you behind, Joe." 

“Not even Wyatt?” Joe asked, grinning. Who the fuck was Wyatt? Joe felt a thrill of fear ripple through him at the words leaving his mouth.

“Alright, yes, he tried to tell me it was hopeless,” Juliana said, with a small frown. She tossed her thick hair over one shoulder, brushing it out of her face. “But he should know, I don’t believe in hopeless causes.”

“Hope is all we have,” Joe said, the words feeling like they had been spoken between them more than once. They felt important, and Joe couldn't help but feel like somebody, somewhere was trying to tell him something. 

Juliana smiled, dipping her head into a nod. “Exactly.”

A moment passed between them, and then she stood up, back straightening. She looked down at him, eyes soft with...love. She loved him, Joe realized. His heart picked up its pace. Fear or excitement, he wasn't sure. 

She held out a hand to him, and after a slight pause, Joe reached up and took it. Her palm was cool and gritty under his skin, but that didn’t matter because it was real. _She_ was real.

Joe stood, hand still gripping hers even when it wasn’t needed anymore. He smiled at her, the genuine gesture feeling foreign on his lips.

Abruptly, a wave of nauseas hit him and he swayed, thrusting his free hand up to his head, clapping it against his forehead.

Images were skimming across his eyes. Voices and faces of things Joe knew, but they were all slightly off, different somehow.

 _John Smith, Canon City, San Francisco, Frank, Berlin, Heusmann, the basement_. All the same things that Joe had lived through, but the outcome of all of them were different because somehow Joe was still alive.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and another shudder of fear rippled through him. Himmler had talked about other worlds. Alternative realities where there were other Joes, living their lives differently from him. Joe hadn’t really believed him, but knew better than to argue (only pain came from arguing). And while Joe hadn’t believed it seemed clear to him now that he was in one of those other worlds. He had died on his world and had somehow been shoved into a new body. 

He let out a huff of air at the absurdity of it all. It didn’t seem fair to him that he had made all the wrong choices and paid for them with his life, only to be thrust into the consciousness of a Joe that had clearly chosen correctly. _This_ Joe was still alive, and was with Juliana. The lucky bastard.

Me, Joe realized suddenly. _He_ was the lucky bastard now.

As if to remind him that he didn’t have everything figured out, a wave of memories cascaded into his mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught. These weren’t his memories; they were the other Joe’s, but they were slowly beginning to become _his_ memories too. Both of their memories were overlapping and blurring, making it hard to differentiate between which were which.

But Joe was determined to remember the world he had come from, and the choices he had made.       

“Joe?” It was Juliana again. Her grip on his hand was tight, grounding him and pulling him back into the present.

He opened his eyes, surprised to find that the world was still in place, that Juliana was still with him. 

“Are you alright? Maybe doc was right and there was internal damage—”

“No,” Joe said, stopping her. “I’m fine. I promise.”

She didn’t look like she fully believed him, but that was okay, because Joe had realized something else. He would have time to convince her that he really was okay, that he was better than okay. He was alive again, with memories of his old life and this new life. He was both Joes now. He was the old Joe, calculating and wily, and this new Joe, who was kinder and softer. Together, he would survive and hold onto the woman he loved.

This was his life now, this new and wonderful life and Joe wasn’t going to waste a minute of it.

“Joe?” Juliana said again, edging closer to him so she could look up at him fully. Her free hand reached up to brush at the hair hanging into his eyes. His skin broke into goosebumps at her touch. 

“Juliana,” Joe returned, the word breathed out between his lips. He looked down at her, drinking in every part of her. He was never going to stop saying her name. She was his beacon, and he wasn’t going to lose sight of her again.  

**Author's Note:**

> I am still FURIOUS about how Joe died and the fact that he actually died. Like, I totally get why Juliana killed him (I probably would have too), but I'm so upset because I felt like there was a lot of story left to tell with Joe. I felt like if they tried a little harder they could have given him a great redemption arc and made him the man that we (and Juliana) knew he could be. Actually, I don't think I would have been so upset if he had died after getting a little redemption (still would have been mad tho).
> 
> I'm holding out hope that he'll come back in one of the other worlds (but that hope is a little shaky cuz Luke said good-bye on instagram and that seems a little final......)
> 
> Anyway, I have a lot of feeeeeelings about this. Which is why I wrote this fic. I was thinking about possible ways that Joe could come back to us and this was one of the ideas (obviously, I don't think it'll happen or that it's very realistic), but since Juliana was getting memories from other versions of herself, I was like, hey why can't other characters (shh, I know why), so then I was like, the Joe we all know and love could come back to us, if another Joe just gets all his memories. Totally possible, right? Right, guys??
> 
> So this was a really long note. But I hope you enjoyed my fic. I struggled a bit with it (dialogue is my thing and most of this is Joe having emotional thoughts about his life) and it didn't quite do what I wanted, but I hope my point/ideas got across.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
